A few minutes pass, and he still hasn’t said a single word. Maybe it’s pointless. Maybe he’ll never give me a chance to show how sorry I am, to make up for all the hurt I caused. Not that I would blame him. He doesn’t owe me a single thing, and he’s entitled to his feelings, but that doesn’t stop me from desperately hoping he would.
It feels like fate, winding up in the same place as him again and running into him the way I did. While I’d hoped it would happen when I moved here, I definitely didn’t have any expectations. And I never, in a million years, thought I’d ever be in his house—in his room.
Reaching over, I place my palm on his forearm. His hands are still clasped together, fingers fidgeting with one another, but they halt upon contact. Segan doesn’t look over at me, but he doesn’t shove my hand off him either.
“Segan,” I breathe, his name almost lost amongst the sound of thunder roaring in the sky, but I feel his muscles tense beneath my touch, so I know he heard it. “Please, just talk to me. Whatever it is.”
He blows out a breath, tightening his hands into fists. “Whatever it is you’re expecting me to say right now, you’re wrong. I just… fuck.” He drops his head down, fingers sinking into the strands atop his head. “I’ve never talked about this to anyone besides a therapist before.”
My heart ricochets inside my chest as I wait on bated breath.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he glances up, sad, sage green eyes meeting mine as he mutters, “I’m HIV positive.”
26
SEGAN
Ifeel like I’m going to hurl. My HIV diagnosis is something I haven’t talked to anybody about, ever, except for the therapist I saw after my suicide attempt. It’s something that took years for me to even come to terms with, and it’s still such a taboo topic, and frankly, not anybody’s business, unless they’re my sexual partner.
Which hasn’t been an issue.
My pulse is racing in my ears as I watch for what Josiah is going to do. Having never told anybody but a professional about this, I have no clue what to expect. Sure, I’ve read stories from other HIV-positive people on the internet, but every situation is different. There’s no right or wrong, black or white, way this could go.
Josiah’s features soften as he watches me, his hand never leaving my arm. “You don’t remember, do you?” he asks, leaving me confused.
My brows dip. “Remember what?”
“Remember telling me about your diagnosis.”
The blood in my ear roars, my mind spinning, trying to figure out what he’s talking about, but nothing comes up. It’s blank. “What are you talking about? When did I tell you?”
An almost sad smile tilts on his lips as he turns his body to face me fully. “The, uh…” Josiah clears his throat, rubbing his free hand along his jaw. “You know that night we ran into each other at Mickey’s?”
My chest tightens, the air getting caught in my throat because,of course, I know what night he’s referring to. I nod in response to his question because words seem to have escaped me.
“It was, uh…” His voice breaks, and it’s then I notice the moisture pooling in his eyes. Before the words even leave his mouth, I already know exactly what he’s going to say. “It was me who found you,” he mutters as the first tear escapes down his cheek. “At your house. It was me who called the ambulance.”
Oh my God.
A ringing sounds in my ears, sweat beading along the back of my neck. The weight of a ton of bricks sits on my chest as I rub the growing ache with a shaky hand. I’ve always wondered who it was who found me and got me to the hospital, but much like everything surrounding that time of my life, I try not to think about it too much. Nobody was there when I woke up, and the doctors were useless in telling me anything, so I let it go. It’s not like anyone came forward to me about it. The whole town brushed it under the rug, acted like it never happened, so it wasn’t worth it to find out.
But the one person I never even thought it could be was Josiah. I was awful to him that night. I was cold and angry. Hell, I decked him in the face when he hardly deserved it. I was pissed, but not necessarily at him. I had just found out about my diagnosis, and I was mad at the world, and didn’t know how to handle it. Having him come into the bar that night was a disaster waiting to happen. Taking my frustration out on him seemed like the easiest thing in the world.
“Why?” It’s all I can manage to get out. My head is light and dizzy, my body cold but hot at the same time.
“You really don’t remember?” he asks, his brow furrowed.
“No, I really don’t fucking remember. Most of what surrounds that seventy-two-hour period is still quite hazy in my mind.”
Josiah’s face is illuminated by the candlelight. All his sharp features surrounded by shadows, making him appear wicked. His jaw is clenched, eyes glossy, and his cheeks wet. He looks stunningly broken in the yellow-orange glow.
His eyes lift, finding mine. It’s a sucker punch to the gut, the overwhelming emotion in his gaze. “After you left Mickey’s in such a hurry that night, I needed to find you. You didn’t look good, and I was worried. So, I…” His voice cracks again. It kills me. My eyes burn, throat tight. “I went to your house. I knocked, but you didn’t answer. Somehow, I knew you were in there. Somehow, I knew something wasn’t right, you know? I could feel it in my gut. An impending type of doom. I’ve never been able to explain it, even to myself, but I knew I needed to get inside.”
My eyes automatically dip, finding the spot on my arm that isn’t as visible anymore due to the huge tattoo I covered it with, but I know it’s there, nonetheless. More than an inch, less than two, the visual representation of my rock bottom. The day when I didn’t believe I could hold on any longer. The day I realized I didn’t want to.
I may not remember much from that day, but the thing that stands out the most, that I still remember, even now, is the eerie calm I felt. It was a serene I didn’t expect to experience. I was sure of my decision, and that assurance was everything I thought I needed at the time.
“Anyway,” Josiah says, pulling me from my thoughts. “I stayed at the hospital with you until you woke up. You were on some heavy drugs, so it makes sense why you don’t remember. You weren’t making much sense, but you did let the HIV diagnosis slip before you passed back out.”
